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Concerning Snow
—a conversation between Beauty and Necessity
“Well, there you go again.” “What’s that?” “Come now,
don’t act so innocent. You see that plow
out there, defacing what it took all night
for me to sculpt.” “Now listen, let’s not fight
about this, not again. It’s only snow,
and while it’s lovely, surely you must know
I just can’t sit and ponder it, as you
suppose I should. There’s just too much to do,
and it’s my job to find some useful way
around or through your ‘masterpiece.’” “Oh, hey,
no need to be sarcastic! You would throw
delight under the bus for work? I know
you think I’m useless, as if ‘usefulness’
could satisfy the deepest needs and bless
the depths of someone’s soul.” “I never said
that.” “You don’t have to. And don’t shake your head
at me! Why can’t you, just for once, admit
what we both know, that people need a bit
of mystery and wonder, time to gaze
and feel enchantment, and breathe in the haze
of sweet unknowing?” “That won’t get that guy
to work or those kids to their school. Apply
some common sense here, pal. Why don’t you try
to see it my way?” “I could wish the same
for you.” “Look, we both know we play this game
by different rules. That seems to be the way
it always works out anyhow…” “I say,
your driver’s plowing makes a pattern. Do
you see the hint of beauty in it?” “You
are clever!” “Yes, I know.” “And useful, too.”
.
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T. M. Moore is Principal of The Fellowship of Ailbe, a spiritual fellowship in the Celtic Christian tradition. He and his wife and editor, Susie, make their home in the Champlain Valley of Vermont.
A beautifully controlled dialogue that that ends with a pinch of resolution, if probably only temporary. The result of lots of practice, I’d guess, that didn’t help much with getting roads cleared in winter. It’s easy to imagine a conversation along these lines down at Joe’s diner or Harry’s bar–once the road to one or the other is cleared.
Thanks for a real beauty, Mr. Moore.
Interesting dialogue, almost as if it were between a man and wife wherein the man must go to work, while the wife wants to enjoy the scenery.
T.M.
Ha ha with exclamation points!!
Every two or three years we get a bunch of snow along the SW Washington State coast where I have the pleasure of living. Yesterday we had 5 inches of heavy, wet snow. My wife and I enjoyed the beauty of the snow-covered landscape of street, yard, and the white-draped shrubbery and tall flocked Sitka Spruce that surrounded our semi-rural home. Before lunch, when the snow stopped falling, we tag-teamed to shovel our walk and sloping driveway so the snow wouldn’t soften, pack down and freeze into a slick-thick frozen sheet of ice when the temperature dropped the next night. Soon, the white, pristine expanse of winter wonderland was marred by a large swath of dark, bare concrete. Something lost but something gained as well. The exercise did us both some good and, truth be told, the shoveled landscape is still beautiful, but with the fingertip of man now touching the fingertip of God.
Your beautiful poem perfectly and captivatingly captured what my wife and I experienced yesterday. Thank you for putting this inner dialogue into words and verse.
Thanks, friends. Special thanks to Evan who suggested the final formatting of this poem. I was all over the place everywhere trying to make this work, and his masterful touch dropped the whole thing into place. Thanks again, Evan.
T.M., I enjoyed the natural roll of your dialogue. Good art often gives the impression of being effortless while in reality bringing great skill to bear. And, like Julian, I enjoyed the temporary resolution at the end – especially Necessity’s “You are clever!” – as in, “Touche!” Finally, correct me if I’m wrong, but this poem is pretty much an Allegory, which is a lost art and which I’ve personally always been appreciative of – so kudos!
Jeremiah: Thanks for your kind and thoughtful comments. I don’t know if this would count as allegory. I think Dr. Salemi might be closer to the mark, that it’s an extended personification? What do I know? Thanks for your encouragement. T. M.
It’s difficult to format a back-and-forth dialogue in metrical poetry. You have to have some kind of visual indication of who is saying what to whom. In this case Moore uses quotation marks, but I have also seen instances where Roman typeface for one speaker is conjoined with Italic typeface for the other. This is easier, I think, on the reader’s eyes.
In drama (as in editions of Shakespeare) it is common to break a shared pentameter line and drop one part of it down (with indentation) to the conclusion spoken by another character. This can look a bit messy on the page, but since there is always an indication of the speaker’s name on the far left side of the page, the reader has no trouble following the dialogue.
The poem could be seen as an allegory, but I think is is more precise to call it an example of extended personification, where two abstractions are imagined as talking individuals.
The ending of this poem makes me think of an old saying: “A human touch makes all the world akin.”
Dr. Salemi: I didn’t know the best way to do this, so Evan helped me. I’m OK with how it turned out. I think what’s actually going on in this poem is my right-brain and left-brain trying to express my views on snow. Which are, in the main, very lofty. Your comments are always helpful. T. M.
This is delightfully clever and insightful — so well done, T.M! I was smiling pretty much all the way through. Both Beauty and Necessity are really well personified.
Thank you. Very encouraging:
Ps. 147.15-18 (St. Anne)
His Word to earth runs to and fro
to carry out His will;
He brings the rain, He sends the snow,
and none can keep Him still.
T. M.
Beautiful — and one of my favorite tunes!
Beauty has some exceptionally beautiful lines: “breathe in the haze of sweet unknowing.” What others are calling “temporary resolution” is a wonderful (and infinitely repeatable) conclusion. May there be many like it!
Narrative poems are hard to pull off. I enjoyed:
Why can’t you, just for once, admit what we both know, that people need a bit
of mystery and wonder, time to gaze and feel enchantment, and breathe in the haze of sweet unknowing?”
“That won’t get that guy
to work or those kids to their school.
A battle between beauty and practicality. So much depends upon a red snow plow.
Michael: Well said. We are surrounded by beauty in things small and easily overlooked, as well as things large and breathtaking, like a good snowfall. Even a red snow plow offers us a chance to discover beauty and give thanks for it. T. M.
This was a wonderfully fun poem to read. I love how that, if heard read aloud, one might not even realize it was written in classical verse. The concept and execution are both very clever.
Gigi
Thank you. One of my aims in poetry is just that, to be as conversational and “under the radar” in verse as I can be. T. M.
I love this deftly wrought, quirky take on the romance and realities of snow in a conversation between Beauty and Necessity. This thoroughly entertaining piece has taken me back to winters in England and tapped into a conversation my heart and head had every time I saw a pristine swathe of the magical stuff stretching before me like fluffy Cloths of Heaven. Thankfully, in Texas we only have a fine dusting every five years or so. T.M. thank you for this wonder of truth and beauty.
Thank you for your kind words. T. M.